


Noble Intentions

by TheMulletWhisperer



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Development, Class Differences, Dom/sub, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Noble Houses, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Plot, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Discovery, Size Difference, Smut, Some Plot, nobles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMulletWhisperer/pseuds/TheMulletWhisperer
Summary: A castoff from her family, broken inside and ignored by the nobility she was born into, Synette's differences have ostracized her from everyone she's loved. Living a sheltered life, day to day in not-so-blissful ignorance and frustration, she can't help but wonder what went wrong, and why she can't seem to marry like a good Breton.Then comes along a Bosmer, a woman of the peasant class. By all rights simply a servant.And yet, she becomes so much more, unlocking Synette from her own cage and bringing her into herself, despite the consequences that may follow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda promised myself I wouldn't write what amounts to straight up smut again but here it is. I doubt anyone is reading for the characters or plot but for what it's worth there's a lot of that, it just ties into the smut.

Synette groaned quietly as she rolled her neck, the pops and cracks audible throughout the room. Over her desk she sat hunched, filling out yet another in a huge stack of paperwork. Through the windows that flanked the room, silvery ribbons of moonlight cast across the floor, the only light that remained next to the candle on the desk. 

It was hard to tell exactly how long she'd been sitting there, filling out courtesy letters and summons, but when she'd started the sun had been high in the sky. Three shifts of servants had passed by her count, and the fourth could not be far off. 

Why she'd been given this job she never knew, and she certainly wasn't going to get a straight answer from her parents. Sure, she was technically a bastard, born to a nordic chambermaid from her father's indiscretions, but her mother was certainly none to throw stones in  _ that _ department, and she hardly looked the part of a Nord. In fact, she looked as a fully respectable Breton—soft features, a noble stature, soft and brown hair, and those slightly peaked ears—though she was a bit on the tall side, nearing seven foot the last she'd checked. But that could be easily explained away as a fluke, or simply good nourishment as a child. 

No, the fact of the matter was that, unlike her sisters, she was not courting nor arranged to be married, and she had made it abundantly clear she did not intend to. She'd made an honest effort, going through several men, though when the time came to consummate that courtship she found herself rushing from the room, sick to her stomach. And so her parents, nobles though they were, took pity on her and, instead of marrying her away, stuck her in the first floor office to slave away over papers and prints while her sisters took the floor at the forefront of the family as the favorites.

Still, being the castoff had its perks. Synette found she could get away with more, such as wearing comfortable clothes or stealing food from the kitchens. Perhaps not the most dignified way to act as a noblewoman in her twenty fourth year, but with hours of work ahead of her most days she found that comfort often outweighed dignity in these cases, especially seeing as her only visitors were the servants who came to clean and offer her food. 

And so there she sat, more than ten hours into her work with no end in sight for the fifth night in a row. She felt her eyelids growing slightly heavy as she scratched out another platitude onto the paper in front of her, signing it with the signature of the house and folding it over, heating the wax over the candle, dripping it over the seam, and stamping it shut. 

As she set aside the letter, the creaking of the ill-oiled door drew her attention to the servant who would no doubt follow, and who she saw made her heart leap. Belwyn, a Bosmer who'd recently been hired onto the kitchen staff out of Daggerfall. She was Synette's dearest friend, which was rather odd considering they knew nothing of one another and rarely spoke beyond the usual small talk and requests. Still, she had no other explanation for why she felt a rush around her, why she felt like smiling every time they caught each other's eyes from across the halls of the manor on the weekends or why her arrival was the only thing she looked forward to during her long work hours during the week.

As always, she carried with her a tray of food, fresh and hot. Every night it was something different, something new and equally delightful as the last night's. Did she cook these meals herself, she wondered, watching as the tray was set down on the desk in front of her for inspection. “Here you are, madame.” Belwyn's voice was light and pleasant, flowing with the accent of an Imperial. “A cut of braised bull, a wedge of fresh bread, a soup of spring vegetables, and black tea mixed with honey.” She rattled off the contents of the plate, pointing to each individual item. 

Synette, however, was barely paying attention as she stared at Belwyn's sharp face and black hair that she found herself wanting to touch. Only when those eyes of bright honey turned to hers she shook herself out of the strange haze she'd found herself in. “Um, sorry.” She stammered, tongue thick in her mouth. “Thank you very much Belwyn, it looks positively wonderful.”

The Bosmer gave her a rather strange look for only a moment before returning Synette's soft smile, hands clasped in front of her. “Will there be anything else madame?”

Synette pursed her lips and pulled the tray closer to her. Was there anything else she needed? Her eyes turned to Belwyn as she thought, before finally speaking up. “Please, call me Belwyn.” She smiled before the rather confused look brought the horror of realization upon her. The smile fell from her face and she made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “Synette, I mean. Call me Synette.” Although she was half amused, she was also rather embarrassed at the slip up despite the fact that the Bosmer seemed unbothered by it. 

In fact, she simply returned to that radiant smile, bending at the waist to bow slightly. “Very well, Synette. If you will excuse me, I should begin preparing tomorrow's breakfast for the rest of the family.” Belwyn turned to leave, stepping to the door, but from behind her a noise kept her in the room, returning her gaze to the Breton. “Is there a problem, my lady?”

Synette bit down on her lip, straining to listen for the ticking of the clock. Breakfast preparations, so early in the night? “What time is it?” She asked, her brow furrowed and, for the moment, her wonderment at her lovely friend forgotten. 

With a bit of an odd look, Belwyn glanced to the neglected clock in the corner of the room. “It is half after four, at my last count.”

Her shoulders slumping, Synette felt the exhaustion settle on her back as the true time of the night was revealed. This had been by far the latest she'd worked. And what for? “Thank you, Belwyn. You are dismissed.” She gave a small smile to the elf, who simply mirrored it and stepped out, allowing the weighted door to creak shut on its own. 

Left alone once again, Synette stood to leave, intending to forgo supper, but the sudden insistent complaining of her stomach informed her otherwise. Sighing quietly, she sat back down and began eating, barely savoring the delicious meal in her haste to leave for her bed.

* * *

 

By the time she'd finished her meal the clock had struck the fifth hour of the morning and she knew that dawn was only an hour away, even in these winter months. And so she returned to the grand hallways of Pierrane Manor, accompanied only by her footsteps in the silvery halls as she wound her way through the wings back to her bedchamber. 

At this late hour, only the servants walked those halls, but in only turns of the clock they would be walked once again by the family, the suitors of her sisters and the visitors they were no doubt housing. Soon the office would receive yet another visitor to collect the letters written by Synette, the only visitor it would see until she woke up once again and returned to her duties, making her parents proud in the only way she could without exposing the broken parts inside of her. 

And so Synette returned to her bedchambers, stripping off her quilted coat, shoes, and trousers, crawling beneath the downy covers in nothing more than her smallclothes and sinking into the well-stuffed mattress. Although she was the castoff of the family, her chambers were no less grand than that of the rest of her kin. Magnificent paintings commissioned by her parents, depicting the cliffs of the grand Reach, the spires of Alinor or the banks of the Niben. On the floors of treated mahogany were rugs from the grandest bazaars of Hammerfell and against the walls were pressed towering bookshelves filled to brimming with tomes of grand knowledge and novels of the greatest acclaim. 

Synette's eyes flitted about the room bathed in its darkness, slowly adjusting to the blindness as she shapes came slowly into view. For minutes this passed and she found herself curiously unable to close her eyes, thinking often back to her conversation with Belwyn, tracing the lines of her sharp face in her mind, catching often on those honeyed eyes that caught the candlelight in a perfect way. 

Perhaps a distraction would help her sleep.

She reached over and held the wick of the candle between her thumb and forefinger, concentrating for the barest of moments until she felt a heat. When she removed them, the candle burned with a soft flame, testament to her Breton's blood. Beneath the bed she reached, producing after a moment a worn book, the words  _ Grand Seas  _ on the cover barely legible and the spine split through with cracks in the finish. Even still, the bindings held it together with little problem, as the merchant had said they would. 

Splitting the pages down the middle to the place where her bookmark rested, she found the paragraph from where she'd stopped the night prior, just before the introduction of the book's protagonist. 

_ … In the doorframe she stood, strong and sinewy. Through her paper-thin tunic her arms strained, barely contained in their cages of fabric. Her wavy chestnut hair flowed down over her shoulders and shielded her otherwise visible chest from the prying eyes of those around, plump and round lips curled into a smile and framing teeth that gleamed white. _

Synette paused and found herself chewing on her lip, a soft heat spreading through her body and settling, curiously, between her legs as she read through the rather gratuitous description of the woman. Her free hand came to rest just below her navel and her index finger twitched. The same had happened to her before, many times. However, asking had only brought hushed whispers and looks of disapproval from those around her. It had always felt faintly embarrassing after, but she was certain it was simply exhaustion. Sighing in frustration, she slid the bookmark back in place and snapped the book shut, tossing it under the bed and flipping onto her side. 

Until the sun broke over the horizon she turned restlessly beneath the blankets. Eventually, finally, she drifted off just in time for the sounds of the first activity in the halls.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I've been obsessed with playing Oblivion lately and have gotten nothing at all done.
> 
> No smut in this one but the next chapter for sure, setup's almost over guys I promise.

By the time Synette awoke, the sky beyond the window of her chambers had begun to darken as the sun—dimmed by a blanket of gray clouds—began to slip over the horizon. Her face split in a yawn and she sat up, allowing her quilt to slide away and bunch up in her lap as she stretched. 

This, in hindsight, proved to be a mistake. 

Perhaps it was her recently awoken state, or perhaps it was simply a failure to notice, but had Synette been paying attention, she would have taken notice of the snow that dusted the sill of the window that was ever so slightly ajar. As her protection fell away, she found herself exposed to the frigid air. 

Before she could even register the cold, she felt her flesh pebble and her jaw clench. With a squeak, she dove back under the covers, curling up into a shivering ball. Even after a mere moment of exposure she found herself freezing and totally unwilling to brave the cold without some kind of protection.

Beneath the blanket she laid until the shivering ground to a final stop and she could feel the warmth returning to her limbs. While she intended to close the window, Synette found her body totally unwilling to cooperate with the demands of her brain, signaling back their own refusal to move as a shot of frigid wind slipped beneath her shelter. 

Eventually, she resigned herself to her fate, doomed to starve to death in her bed, trapped by the will of Kynareth's icy breath. Perhaps it was not the worst way to die, at the will of the Divines in a comfortable place, surrounded by warmth. She reflected on the life that was now forfeit and regretted only one thing: not wearing clothes to bed. 

A knock from the door pierced the mournful silence. Hope! Salvation! “Synette?” Came the voice on the other side. Familiar, but she didn't much think about who it was or whether she should let them in. 

“Yes, it's unlocked!” Her voice carried the slightest of panics to it, almost as if she'd convinced herself that she was actually about to die. While her voice was muffled rather severely by the blanket, the click of the door as it slid open, told her that she'd been heard. 

“Lady—oh, Y'ffre's tits it's cold in here.” The voice of Belwyn rang through the room and Synette found herself suddenly hot in the face as she realized how indecent she was. For a split second, she forgot that she was huddled beneath the covers and tried to shield herself from view. The darkness, however, served as a reminder, though she didn't move her arms. “Lady Synette, are you in here?” The Bosmer inquired as the window signaled itself shut with a click. 

For a moment she debated simply remaining quiet until the servant left, but her desire to speak to Belwyn outweighed her potential embarrassment. “Yes, under the blankets. If you wouldn't mind, could you perhaps pass me the last night's clothing from the chair. Just next to the bookcase.” A silence hung over the room that felt almost uncomfortable, but perhaps that was simply Synette's rather intense anxiety surrounding her interactions with the elf. Nonetheless, as the blanket rustled and light peeked through, her fears were dispelled—as well as her comfortable warmth. The requested clothing was shoved beneath within her reach and she took to dressing. “Thank you, Belwyn. Might you stoke a fire while I dress?” Her frayed nerves were little match for her desire for continued warmth and she found herself asking the question rather easily. 

“Of course, lady Synette.” The smile had returned to Belwyn's voice as she padded over to the fireplace on the far side of the room, accompanied soon by the rattling of logs and kindling against one another. Synette, dressing quickly, slid out from beneath the blankets, the intense—albeit weaker—cold washed over her once again and she shivered, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. 

Across the room the sounds of frustration and the striking of a firesteel on the flint drew her attention. Turning her gaze, somewhat nervously, to the fireplace, she could somewhat make out Belwyn hunched over the pile of logs, the occasional sparks of the flint illuminating her frustration for only a flash before the darkness once again descended. For a brief moment, Synette stood, shifting her weight from side to side as she wrestled within herself between helping and allowing whatever was happening to happen. The sight of Belwyn bent at the waist seemed to bring back that warmth of the night prior. 

Still, her helpful nature took the reins and she lurched forward, approaching the cold fireplace and gently placing her fingers on Belwyn's soft, perfect hand. Though it had, at first, merely been a signal for her to pause, she found them lingering for an awkward moment until her mind caught up and she removed her hand, tacitly refusing to meet the Bosmer's eyes. "Um… here." She reached out and placed her hand over the rough surface of the firewood. In concentration, her eyes slid shut and she curled her fingers, channeling what she had within her to bring to flame the fireplace.

The Bosmer's eyes were locked on her as she concentrated. When her hand was withdrawn and the log burned bright, Belwyn gasped slightly, watching in wonderment as the flame danced delicately between the kindling and wood, spreading faster than was natural. Synette smiled at that, somewhat weakly. She may have been a Breton, but she lacked the training of a mage and found herself drained doing more than lighting a candle. Although she no doubt looked paler than usual, the servant didn't seem to notice—or at least didn't make it obvious that she did. 

After several moments the two stood in tandem, looking over the room bathed in the fresh light of the fireplace. A warm, comfortable silence hung over the two like a cozy quilt and they simply stood. The cough that broke that silence gave Synette a slight start, much to Belwyn's amusement. "I apologize, lady Synette, I didn't mean to startle you," her words nonetheless carried a hint of a laugh in them, "but I did need to speak to you about something, if you have a moment." 

Synette felt a familiar, cold anxiety grip her gut. There was no reason for it, certainly—it was not as if she'd done something wrong. And yet, every time someone asked to speak with her, it was something negative. The request had begun to carry a negative connotation to it. Nevertheless, she put on a smile and crossed her arms loosely across her chest. "Of course, anything you need." Perhaps she had come off a bit eager, but as she'd come to expect, Belwyn took it in stride.

The Bosmer nodded, sparing a cautious glance at the door at her flank to ensure they were indeed alone before she spoke up, "I spoke to some of the other servants last night," she began, turning her attention back to Synette, "they said you haven't ever asked any of them to call you by your name." Rather uncharacteristically, she shifted her weight in a gesture that looked almost nervous. "If you don't mind me asking, do you have a special interest in me?"

Synette found herself caught off guard by the question, scrambling through her mind for an answer. The question had plagued her as well if she was to be honest with herself. A moment's break in the conversation followed before she responded with the only answer she could come up with, "Well you  _ are _ my closest friend, I hardly think we should be on a formal basis." She found herself cringing internally at her own response, though a practiced face still held its cheerful smile.

That much didn't seem to satisfy the curious mer, and indeed it only seemed to deepen that curiosity. She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, falling quiet as she no doubt contemplated her own answer in turn. "I don't think I follow, Lady Synette." She seemed slightly uncomfortable, something Synette would be kicking herself for all day. If there was one thing she didn't want to do, it was make Belwyn uncomfortable. "We've barely spoken outside your meal deliveries, forgive me for saying but I don't think we're that close."

Synette couldn't argue with that logic and nodded in agreement, "Well… yes. That's true." She found herself slipping further into confusion herself. For likely the first time in the history of Mundus, neither participant in the conversation understood what was happening or what was being discussed. 

With a nod, Belwyn tilted her chin down, squinting at the floor in passive thought. "Then why do you consider us such close friends if we barely know each other?"

Synette's jaw worked wordlessly in an attempt to answer that tactfully. Eventually, she settled simply on reciting the reasoning she'd been repeating to herself over and over, "I… suppose I don't know what else it could be. Every time I see you I smile and I always look forward to seeing you. That's what friendship is, yes? It's how close friends react to one another?"

The cant of Belwyn's head to the side and the knowing smile that spread slowly across her face told Synette that she'd just blundered into something beyond her immediate comprehension. As her head straightened once again, the Bosmer crossed her arms, though not in a gesture of hostility. "I think that's attraction, Lady Synette. Do you really not know what that feels like?"

Her words brought numerous responses to Synette's mind but all that came from her mouth was undignified sputtering, trying to make sense of what had just been sprung on her. "It—I'd! That's-that—ridicul—I don't!" She found she had trouble forming a proper sentence, stumbling profusely over her words while her face—once made raw from cold—burned with a heat greater than the one that raged in the fireplace. Thankfully, Belwyn remained patient and simply watched while she organized herself, her stuttering finally tapering off. With a deep breath she straightened her back and squared her shoulders, prepared to speak coherently. "I don't think that to be the truth. You're...well…" She gestured vaguely, trying to avoid being offensive. 

That tactic, unfortunately, didn't seem to work, and Belwyn's amused grin melted into a frown. "A what, madame? A knife ear? A scullery maid? Too low for your own grand tastes?" The bitterness in her voice told Synette she'd faced those exact words in her past, though none were what she meant. 

"No! No, Mara, no! You're…" she paused, shifting slightly and adjusting her coat around her shoulders. "Well, you're a woman." Synette finished quietly, shrugging. "Why would I be attracted to a woman?" Despite the obviousness of her question, she couldn't help but feel strange saying it. Even Belwyn thought it was strange, judging by the surprised shift in her demeanor.

"I'm…" Belwyn furrowed her brow, obviously confused. "Not sure what you mean, Lady Synette. What reason is there to reject the idea?" 

Synette shifted uncomfortably, sensing what would likely be a clash between the two. Nonetheless she continued with what she wanted to say, equal parts a calculated gamble and a simple failure of impulse control. "Women aren't to be attracted to women, of course. It doesn't make any sense. Women cannot bear heirs with one another, or even…" She blushed deeply, making a vague gesture with her hand in the direction of the Bosmer. "Have… sex." She muttered the last word almost inaudibly, sending it out with a breath that was very nearly louder than the word itself.

The smile on Belwyn's face told Synette that her words had been, in some way, amusing, but the fact that her eyes carried pity in them only brought more confusion. "Your family's kept you pretty sheltered, haven't they?" She sighed quietly, glancing toward the melting snow beneath the windowsill. Her gaze was pensive and her mouth twisted in thought. Silently, respectfully, Synette stood waiting for whatever would come next. Eventually, she spoke up again. "If it's not too forward, why don't I take my break when I bring you your dinner tonight, and we can talk more then?"

The offer was a bit surprising, but Synette couldn't help being intrigued. It was clear that Belwyn had more to tell her, perhaps some revelations about herself. She gave a firm nod, folding her arms over one another with a reserved smile. "Certainly, that would be lovely."

Belwyn's smile grew at the response and she returned the nod. "Great. I should get to work, then. I'll talk to you later tonight, Lady Synette." She bowed her head in a gesture of respect and stepped out, and for the first time, Synette realized that she carried herself differently from the other servants, with a greater dignity and courage.

Indeed, she couldn't wait to learn more later that night, and found herself on the cusp of scrambling to return to the office and begin her own work. With her clothes already on and her room being warmed by the crackling fire, she set out on her way, straining against the heavy door as she often did. 

The hallways, contrary to their cold silence in the dead of night, now bustled with more activity than a Wayrest tavern on Loredas. The sight of so many gave Synette a moment's pause. While she was used to one or two strange faces—suitors of her parents or other nobles, or sometimes both—the sheer number sent her into momentary shock. She wasn't aware of any events scheduled, as she would no doubt have been the one to send out the invitations. For the moment, her insistence on getting to work was pushed to the back of her mind. 

She descended the stairs quickly, searching for anyone she recognized amongst the crowd. Eventually, she caught the telltale platinum mane of her younger sister, Arielle. While certainly not her favorite person, hers was the only familiar face, and so she sucked up her dread and approached her sibling from behind. 

Arielle was the shortest of the family—coming up just below Synette's shoulder—though that wasn't saying much. Her two sisters only differed by an inch or two, certainly not the solid five or six Synette had on them. As expected, it had led to an excess of teasing, but only from her younger sister. Indeed, instead of harming her self esteem, it only served to make her dread seeing Arielle in anticipation of more smug teasing. Even as they grew out of their teenage years and into adulthood, the teasing had not stopped—perhaps even intensified, after their parents gave up on Synette's marriage prospects.

"Hey, Arielle." She reached out and grabbed her younger sister by the shoulder in a bid to catch her attention, inadvertently giving her a start. The younger woman whipped around, the anger on her face making it clear she'd recognized the voice attached to the hand. 

"By the Divines Synette, how can you be so sneaky with such big feet?!" The insult hardly made sense as her feet were normal for her size. As always, it rolled off her back, but the intention was not lost and it struck a chord of annoyance deep within her chest. This conversation was not going to be a fun one. "What do you want, I'm in the middle of something more important." The smug mocking in her voice grated on Synette's brain and she found herself forced to close her eyes and take a deep breath to avoid lashing out. 

"What's—" She almost asked her question directly to Arielle but the moment their eyes locked she knew she wasn't going to be able to bear standing around for the explanation. She released her breath in a huff and glanced around the room. "Where are mother and father, I need to speak with them?"

Even by the sound of the breath Arielle took to respond, Synette knew the answer was not going to be a straight one. "They're with the  _ better _ daughter and her husband, honey. They don't want to be disturbed." Her tone had switched from snotty to condescending and Synette was forced to ball up her hands in an attempt not to throw a punch. Such a thing would be  _ undignified _ , unfortunately. 

"Arielle," She began in a low voice, barely registering over the ruckus in the entry hall, "tell me where mother and father are or I swear to Mara and all Eight Divines that I will mix manure in with your lotions for the next month." The threat was not an idle one and she'd been known to do just that at a younger age to get back at her sister. It was usually an effective deterrent. 

Despite the familiar disgust that Arielle now wore, her voice managed to maintain its grating quality. "Awww, Shit-Hands Synette going digging around in the stables again." A derisive laugh slipped from between her lips before she continued, "They're outside greeting the new arrivals. Try not to step on anyone on your way out." Her voice was sweet as she threw a final insult over her shoulder and retreated deeper into the mansion, leaving a fuming Synette behind. 

It was not certain that she  _ wouldn't  _ sneak into her room that night and use a pillow to smother her to death, but the idea was filed away as she wove her way through the crowd toward the entrance hall. Closer to the door, the lingering crowd of chatty nobles began to look more and more familiar, attendants of previous house parties and friends of the family. That, however, only confused her more. This many of the family's friends wouldn't be here if there weren't some sort of party that had flown beneath her notice.

Synette barely paused at the large entry doors—flung wide open. The cold air of the Wayrest dusk flooded though and rubbed her face raw within seconds, but her mission compelled her to forget that for the moment. Her mother and father were not difficult to spot amongst the guests, dressed in the flamboyant colors of the family: Lazuli and scarlet. Beyond tacky, even to her untrained eyes. They stood at the precipice of the steps, welcoming each new guest personally as they arrived in their carriages. Far in front of them the sun had begun to fall beneath the distant mountains of the Reach, bidding Wayrest its farewell in a vibrant display of purples and reds. 

"Mother!" Synette approached as her mother bid farewell to the guest she was greeting. She turned on her heel, tilting her chin up to appraise her daughter as she always did. Her red painted lips pursed and she adjusted her graying hair as she combed over Synette's admittedly disheveled appearance with a disapproving gaze. 

"Ah, Synette, finally awake I see." Her kind smile was paper thin and her eyes betrayed the irritation at the interruption. "It is quite nice of you to join us, we were just about to begin if you would like to come out of the office for a time."

Synette's confusion only grew as her mother spoke and she forgot the mounting annoyance of having to deal with her family. "Join you? What's going on, mother, why are all these people here? It's the middle of the week!"

"I thought you would have known," the deep voice of her father from behind gave her a start and she took an instinctive step back to bring both of them within view, "we are holding a party to celebrate the end of Sun's Dusk." He tilted his bearded chin up to meet her eyes, his pure Breton blood giving her a clear height advantage. "You have been writing invitations for a month now, I am surprised you were not aware of this."

Synette felt her brow furrow as she thought back over the past month's work. It was difficult to keep up with everything she wrote for the family but it was almost certain that she hadn't been writing any invitations to a Sun's Dusk party. "What are you talking about, I have not received any invitation requests."

The two laughed at some joke she didn't realize she was telling and her mother shook her head, piping up, "Well we could hardly have made them obvious invitations, what if a servant got their hands on them? This party is rather exclusive after all."

In hindsight, she should've seen it sooner. Her parents were notorious among High Rock's nobility for their eccentric antics when it came to parties. Even so, she wasn't quite sure how she'd been sending invitations. "Yes, they were coded into the requests for the stable supplies you have been sending out, all our friends know the codes by heart."

Synette felt her heart seize. She hadn't finished writing the requests and had shunted them to the back of the list for things she felt were more important at the time. "Wh-why are they here  _ today,  _ the month doesn't end until Tirdas." 

"Well we must have them all at the party by the end of the month, six days should be plenty of time!" Her mother looked proud of the thought but Synette was anything but impressed. If she hurried, she could get the remainder of the invitations off to the couriers by the morning if she put a rush order on them. It would cost more but her parents were paying for it and they'd gotten themselves into the mess to start with. 

With a resigned sigh she took a step back toward the door, "Very well, I will be in the office then.  _ Please  _ ask the guests not to disturb me." The problem was not an uncommon one during her parents' parties. Drunk guests trying to find someplace to be alone together or simply lost servants operating on bad directions. 

"You should come mingle, perhaps you will meet a man you like." Her father extended his invitation with an open hand, an unspoken hope in his eyes. She would normally oblige, however after Belwyn's strange accusation, the last thing she wanted to do was go on another ill-fated boy hunt for the benefit of her parents. 

"As I said, I have work to do, I apologize!" She called her excuse over her shoulder and retreated into the manor, already counting the minutes in her head until the guests went to bed and she was again alone with Belwyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to fill this box with something or else the chapter feels too empty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus shit this took ages to get out. It's a super long one, about 8600 words so you're definitely in for a read. And, as promised, there is smut! Yay! It only took me like three chapters to do smut in the story about smut!

The remainder of Synette's early night was spent politely turning away drunken guests looking for a quiet, secluded area of the manor to be alone in. Eventually, after the intrusion of an old family friend intent on catching up, she was forced to lock the door behind her, a welcome respite from the chaos of the party. Her parents' flighty eccentricities were a constant source of headache that only she and her older sister seemed to understand.

Even having locked out the intrusions, she still found it unreasonably difficult to concentrate as the chatter and laughter that echoed through her door from the entry hall snapped her out of the trance she often found herself in when working. Every glance at the clock brought bad news as she'd found that minutes became exhausting hours. No longer was the atmosphere from the night prior, replaced instead by an acute awareness of how slowly time moved.

By the time the chatter in the entry hall had died and the guests had filed off to their rooms for the night, Synette's work had only just begun and the list of names had hardly budged. Although silence had fallen, she was unable to recapture the comfortable focus that she usually held. Perhaps it was the knowledge that at any moment a lost guest could jolt the door and snap her right back out of that wonderful concentration, but perhaps it was knowing that, only hours from now, she may have to face a harsh truth about herself.

Indeed, she found her mind wandering inadvertently from her task, though she always caught it and returned it. The exhaustion, however, was making it considerably more difficult for her to catch herself. Her novels came first to her mind. Most of them were proper for a lady of her type, swarthy pirates and noble women. But some—her favorites—were taboo. Books from Cyrodiil, where that sort of thing was acceptable, encouraged. It was harmless curiosity, she'd told herself, but now she wasn't quite so sure. Her reactions to those books had always been different, more vivid.

By the time the knock on her door pulled her away from her own mind, a storm had begun to pound against the windows and she couldn't tell when it had started or how long it had been going. A cursory glance at the clock told her that it had been almost an hour since she'd given into the pull of her mind. Another knocked echoed from the door. Synette pushed up to her feet, tense muscles protesting the move. For the moment, however, she ignored them, no matter how strong the urge to stretch them was.

Pulling away the deadbolt, she pulled the door's latch free and opened it with a nervous smile. The face that she met, though, was not the Bosmer she was hoping for. "Synette." Her older sister's gentle voice greeted her. As always, she seemed slightly weary. "I'm glad you are still up. I was hoping to speak with you for a moment."

Although Belwyn would no doubt be here any moment, Lielle was nothing like Arielle and Synette was happy to help. "Certainly." Her smile grew and she returned to the desk, setting aside the papers she had been working on for the moment. "What do you need?" Her tone was a bit shorter than she intended, but she could do little to take it back and instead gave a small smile to try and smooth it over.

"I was hoping to talk to you about this party mother and father are hosting." Lielle approached the desk but refused the offered chair, simply standing at the foot with her hands clasped in front of her. She'd always been far more polite than the youngest of the three and she'd been the only one in the family who didn't ridicule her for not being married yet.

Synette laughed, a bit bitterly at its mention as she sat back in her chair, leaning back against the seat and ruffling a hand through her loose hair. "Gods, the party. What about it?" Her gaze tracked over the pile of unfinished papers, her mind pulled to the number of invitations that would need to be finished before the morning.

"I wanted to ask if you needed any help finishing the invitations." Her sister's gentle question surprised Synette a bit. She knew Lielle was intelligent, but not clairvoyant.

"How did…" She began to speak but trailed off, obviously rather confused.

Lielle laughed quietly and glanced at the desk. "I know how they are and I realized they probably had not told you they had disguised the invitations when I did not see you on the floor tonight." She took the chair opposite to Synette and sat down finally, reaching for the stack of blank parchment without any confirmation that help was actually needed.

While she was worried Belwyn might arrive at the wrong moment and her answers would be postponed, she was also desperate to get the invitations out to the guests. With two people working on the papers, it would take no time at all. With a determined nod to herself that drew an odd glance from her sister, Synette sat and plucked a sheet of blank parchment from the stack at her right hand. With the name list poised between the two, they began hard at work scribbling out the invitations.

* * *

 

Finally, with work to focus on and another in the room to keep her focused, Synette finally fell into her old rhythm, keeping her brain on track with her quill hand. The ticking of the clock had faded into simple background noise behind the scratching of pens and crackling of paper.

Time became a simple afterthought as poorly-disguised hinting flowed from mind to hand to paper. Occasionally the monotony of sound was broken by one of the pair whispering out a sentence to test it before returning to silence. Several times the clock rung its bell and several times they ignored it, caught up in the scratching of pens and crackling of paper.

Finally, what was no doubt hours later, the creaking of the office door roused the both of them simultaneously from the trance and they turned their attention to the intruder, eyes owlish as if they'd be caught by surprise doing something wrong. In the door's frame stood Belwyn, a rather large tray in hand with more than enough food for one person. She, too, looked as if she'd been caught in some lie or other transgression. Silence of an absolute quality ruled for several torturous seconds before it was cracked by the Bosmer, "Lady Lielle, I… apologize for interrupting, I am simply bringing Lady Synette her supper."

Lielle's perpetually tired eyes tracked from the tray to the servant, and finally returned to Synette in an ever so minor suspicion. Still she said nothing and didn't seem overly put off by the sudden interruption. She always had a bit too perceptive, but even Synette knew it was impossible to know. No doubt it was simply her mind playing an anxious trick. "I will leave you to…" She tilted her chin down, glancing between the two, "eat." Her voice was tense as she stood from her chair, brushing past the servant and shutting the door behind her.

Synette and Belwyn exchanged looks, one innocent and the other profoundly nervous. The Bosmer approached the desk, carefully placing the tray on top of a slew of errant papers that covered the surface. Her gaze fluttered between Synette, the desk, and the door. "This… may have been a mistake." Her voice was a mere murmur, as if she'd been talking only to herself, but it nonetheless struck an icy spear through Synette's chest.

"What—What do you mean?" Her desperation was undeniable but for what reason she wasn't certain, perhaps it was the crisis that only Belwyn could solve, but perhaps it was something deeper that she could not bring herself to admit to herself. "Was it Lielle? She's just strange, don't worry, she won't say anything?" Her words spilled from her mouth and she practically leapt to her feet, striking the seat of the chair with the backs of her knees and sending it toppling to the floor.

Belwyn's lips formed soundless words, her face hard and eyes flashing a fear that seemed almost at war with her otherwise confident demeanor. "I…" Her voice hitched and her breathing carried a weight, as if there were a heavy book on her chest. "I should go, Lady Synette." Paying no mind to the food she'd brought herself, she began toward the door.

"Wait!" Synette practically climbed over the desk and lunged out, gripping Belwyn's shoulder. The Bosmer instantly tensed up under the touch but didn't pull away, hand frozen on the handle. She threw a glance over her shoulder to Synette expectantly. "I need answers, Belwyn." She plead, face as pitiful as could be without conscious effort. "I haven't been able to think right since this morn—evening. _Please_ , Belwyn. Lielle isn't going to say anything, even if she suspects."

Each held the other's gaze in a protracted silence until, finally, Belwyn relaxed her shoulders and approached the desk, pulling out the chair and perching on the edge, as if she were expecting to have to cut and run at any moment. From the tray she collected the meager meal she'd prepared for herself—a bowl of overcooked venison broth, a wedge of bread, and a small glass of water. Meanwhile, the offering to Synette was, predictably enough, rather extravagant and a bit more than she could eat. The traditional honeyed tea was the only familiar dish, the highlands meal of the night before having turned to a coastal spread of fish resting on a bed of kale, lettuce, and spinach, sugared bread and a small cup of syrup set to the side. "Is that what they feed the servants?" Synette wrinkled her nose slightly as her eyes flitted between the two vastly different plates. "I will have to speak to the head of the kitchens." She muttered, pulling the offered food close.

Belwyn seemed less offended by the discrepancies, a soft laugh escaping beneath her breath. "I'd rather eat simple, the others are allowed to make themselves what they want." She shot a side glance to the bread and syrup. "Within reason." She heaved a small, resigned sigh and stirred up her broth—though Synette clearly missed the sign she was giving. Indeed, her furrowed brow and unnaturally hard face made it clear she had much more on her mind than food.

Several minutes passed, both waiting for the other to speak up. Synette, stomach churning, simply pushed the greens around with her fork, nudging the fish every so often and sending another leaf toppling onto the desk below. The clock’s ticking and the fresh rattle of the rain on the windows kept them company as Synette watched Belwyn eat ever so slowly. Her lips twisted up as her mind raced and she realized she hadn’t thought of what she was going to say. How could she even begin the conversation?

  
Eventually, she steeled herself, the deep breath she drew in through her nose drawing the attention of her dining partner. “I… don’t know how to start. I haven’t been able to think straight since our conversation. What did you mean?” She dropped her normal, more formal tone of voice. Instead of the noble she was, she spoke as if she were a young girl learning of some terrifying thing.

Belwyn let out a soft hum and set her fork down in the broth, pushing her meal aside to be ignored for the moment. “I meant what I did. I think… I think it’d help me if I knew why you seemed so opposed to the idea, first.” Her tone of voice, conversely, took on that of a mentor or a teacher, a doctor or healer trying to understand some grand ailment. It was hardly a comforting sound in comparison to her earlier friendliness.

“Well isn’t it obvious?” Synette seemed certain that it was, but Belwyn’s confusion made it clear that perhaps it wasn’t. “Women are not meant to be with other women, they cannot…” Her face flushed a deep red and she turned her gaze down to the desk, once again fidgeting with the fork. “You know. We could—that is to say, women,” she amended quickly, “not have children. Is that not the goal at the end of the day? To carry on the family.”

Belwyn allowed her companion to speak, nodding her head in an apparent understanding. Silence once again descended as she thought of what words to say, and how to put them. “That… I don’t think that’s quite true.” Her voice was inappropriately amused, though it hardly offended Synette—-in fact, she barely noticed. “We—-that is to say, women,” she laughed softly, “can have sex.” She seemed significantly more nonchalant about the term, even hearing it used so loosely brought the blood rushing to Synette’s face in a deluge, turning her redder than a radish. “That would take a long time to explain though, and… well, you might just die of embarrassment before I finished.” The smile that split her sharp face widened, though not a mocking one.

Synette nodded her head, impaling the fish in the center of the plate with the fork and letting it stand. “I don’t suppose that is the pertinent question here anyway.” She began picking at her fingernails. “You said I was attracted to you but… but I hardly see why that would be so. I am not attracted to women, I am attracted to men.” She shrugged slightly. The words seemed insincere even to her, as if they had been a practiced play rather than a genuine sentiment.

“Then why are you not married like Lady Arielle or Lielle?” The question had no pause and it nearly made Synette recoil. Belwyn gave her little time to process as she continued talking, “Have you really never asked yourself why you weren’t? Forgive the ill speak, but I don’t think your parents are the kind to let you off without forcing you into a date or two. I’ve worked for a lot of nobles, they’re almost always married before they’ve even matured.” The rapid-fire information nearly overloaded Synette’s mind and she found her breath picking up, almost as if there were a weight pressing on her chest.

“Well, no! I just… I don’t want to be with them! I mean—-I mean, that’s not—-that’s—-I just haven’t found the right one!” Her voice had become unnaturally high pitched and she’d nearly begun squeaking her words. “They’re—-I’m not—-You’re, I mean—-I’m—-” She felt as if she was going to pass out, but Belwyn didn’t stop.

“Listen to yourself, Synette. You’re coming up with excuses for it all. There’s nothing wrong with it, I understand.” Belwyn reached across to touch Synette’s hand in a hope of calming her down, but the force with which the Breton recoiled sent her chair capsizing and she fell to the floor, wasting no time in scrambling to her knees and nearly flinging herself into a corner. Panic began to rise in Belwyn’s chest. Perhaps she’d pushed to hard, broken the poor girl. She relaxed into her chair and watched the noblewoman hyperventilate beneath the windowsill.

Time seemed to pass like a glacier in the Ghost Sea as Synette calmed herself, trying to untangle the loose, racing threads in her mind. The information was all far too much to process at the moment and she felt as if she was going to shut down, her lungs had seized and her fingertips felt as if they were on fire. It had happened before, but rarely with such intensity. To make herself calm was taking far longer than it usually did as she fought to keep Belwyn’s words out of her head.

With the ticking of the clock and the pounding of the rain-turned-torrent outside, she found herself able to focus on the outside and slowly but surely recovered enough to break through the white noise and take her first deep breath. Her eyes slid shut and she began thinking and thinking, hardly daring to look at the Bosmer for the question she was about to ask. “Why do you think, then, I… I feel like I do around you? I am attracted? I hardly even know who I am attracted _to_ , how could I…?”

Belwyn took that as a cue to stand up and approach the girl, carefully. This time, when she laid a hand on her arm, Synette did not flinch or recoil, and indeed seemed to relax. “You believe in Mara, yes?” A silent nod was her answer, “Maybe it’s Mara, then. Or… maybe it’s just your heart telling you something your mind doesn’t want to know.” Her voice had softened and she began to softly stroke up and down Synette’s jacketed forearm, something which seemed to relax her exponentially.

“Then…” She looked up, dark eyes troubled. They stared at one another for a time, neither speaking nor moving save for the hand on Synette’s arm. In one small motion—-a move that surprised the both of them—-Synette lurched forward and captured Belwyn’s mouth in a rather soft and chaste kiss. That, ultimately, was all she needed. That cloud in her mind evaporated—-if only for the moment—-and she found herself with eyes opened. A fire bloomed in her chest and a clarity came to her that seemed to have always been there, something she couldn’t see. Belwyn seemed not to object, simply holding onto Syentte’s arm and allowing it to happen, neither returning it or pulling away. Only when she realized she may be lingering too long did Synette pull away, face flushed red once again, her heart pounding in her ears. “I—-I….” She took a deep breath and her face, for the first time that night, split in a genuine smile, unhindered by fear or confusion.

The Bosmer smiled back, sliding her hand down and taking Synette’s slender fingers in her own, gently swiping her thumb over the tops. “Then maybe it was Mara. But I was right, wasn’t I?” Her victory was obvious but she felt the need to make the point herself. Rarely did she get the chance to prove as much to a noblewoman.

Synette swallowed hard and nodded, eyes jumping between Belwyn’s face and her hand. They sat like that for a long moment before she realized what she’d done and panic set in, “Oh my gods Belwyn, I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t ask you, I shouldn’t have—-” She was silenced by the return of that kiss, and though she tried to keep talking, her mind eventually caught up and she relaxed into it. Without the blinding light of discovery, she found that Belwyn’s lips were rather chapped and rough—-though not unpleasant, certainly an interesting feeling, no doubt brought by the dry heat of the kitchens.

From that moment they simply sat on the floor, embracing one another. The rain and the ticking of the clock blended into and over one another until they finally faded away, mere noise to the background of tender discovery and affection. An affection neither were sure of, for one reason or another, but which they both gave into willingly, at least for the time.

Synette, though not inexperienced in kissing, was unsure of where to go. This very moment seemed to have unlocked something in her, an enjoyment she'd never felt before when meeting another's lips. The feeling from the night prior, the heat in her gut, had returned with something of a vengeance and she found herself questioning what even that meant now. Absentmindedly, she ran a hand over the front of her stomach, trying to feel out what might be wrong. It was at this unfortunate moment that Belwyn pulled away and, for the first time, blushed as she saw Synette's hand seeking out the source of that strange fuzzy heat, traveling lower than it had in the past. "Oh." She made a little noise, now just as flustered as Synette had been only minutes earlier.

"Hmm?" Synette looked down, worried for a moment she'd found a way to expose herself, but she noticed nothing particularly off and she moved her hand back from her waistband. Still, the embarrassment on Belwyn's face was clear and she felt she owed an explanation. "Sorry, I'm just feeling a slight bit odd." That drew a strange look from the Bosmer.

"Odd? Are you feeling alright, do you need me to get you anything?" Whatever it was Belwyn had been expecting, it clearly wasn't that as the embarrassment gave way to a slight concern and the blush now only faintly dusted her cheeks.

"No, no it has happened before. It—well…" Belwyn had given her more answers than her parents ever had. Perhaps she knew a bit more about the odd feeling. "Maybe you know." She thought aloud, "It's a… warmth, I suppose. Not unpleasant. I get restless and my heart starts going faster. I tried to ask my parents what it was but they didn't tell me." She shrugged slightly, turning a blank face up to look at Belwyn once again, who leaned back on her haunches and combed a hand through her hair.

"They haven't taught you anything, have they?" Her voice was a whisper but the two were close enough that Synette could hear without any issue. "I assume then," she spoke up, gazing at Synette sympathetically, "that you haven't mas— explored...down there." She gestured vaguely and the blush returned but for what reason Synette wasn't certain. The wide gesture could've meant anything below her ribcage.

"Explored?" Her voice was hopelessly innocent as could be and she seemed rather confused. She looked down at herself and set her hands at her side. "I'm...not quite certain what there is to explore. It is hardly the Black Marsh, I believe I know where my own body is." She shrugged, turning her eyes up to Belwyn, who seemed rather amused.

The Bosmer backed away and sat down next to Synette on the cold stone. "I guess tonight's going to be a long one." She glanced worriedly at the locked door. "Are you sure nobody can find their way in here? I'm sure it'd be embarrassing for both of us if they overheard… well, everything we're about to talk about."

That only served to confuse Synette more than the rest of the night combined, but she shook her head in response nonetheless. "Not unless they want to bring one of the guards to kick it down. The deadbolt is on." She turned her gaze to Belwyn, "If Fortis gets onto you for not returning I can tell him you were assisting me with the letters, if that is what you're worried about."

Belwyn let slip a small laugh and nodded her head, "Well, I wasn't really thinking about that but it's a good idea. I don't think this would be at all worthwhile if I was about to get fired." She sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. "Okay… I just need to make sure you want to talk about this. It's probably going to get really awkward." Her warning carried a hint of hope to it, but one that Synette seemed, as always, ignorant to.

"I… suppose I've little other choice." She shrugged, flipping her hair back over her shoulder in doing so. "I cannot imagine what little else would embarrass me here." Her words were naive and it almost made Belwyn feel bad that she was about to have her bubble broken.

"Alright, good." She nodded. "So… they taught you about sex, I assume." Despite her rather casual appearance, even Belwyn seemed uncomfortable in having to take on the role of the person giving Synette this information.

"Well… yes, of course." She halted herself, pursing her lips in thought. All she'd learned tonight, she wasn't able to be sure. "I think." She amended, turning her gaze expectantly to Belwyn in hopes of enlightenment. When none came, however, she knew she needed to elaborate. "Sex is…" she blushed again. The topic was always danced around as if it were a lounging cat in a ballroom when she was with her family. All she knew was what she'd read, and she _knew_ those were terribly undignified. "When a man puts a—puts _his_ …" She paused, trying to retrieve the word. When nothing came to her, she thought back to her books. " _Member_ into a woman's pussy and then…" she felt a bit like a child in her clumsy explanation, "moves back and forth inside of her until he comes. And that is… somehow the way a child is conceived."

When she broke her concentration and looked back to Belwyn she almost felt guilty. The look of astonishment was like nothing she'd ever seen before. So intense was it that she felt guilty simply under her eyes. "How on _Nirn_ do you know those words but don't know about women having sex?" Her voice was almost in awe at the bevy of dirty words that had spilled from the mouth of such an innocent girl.

The tone of her voice made Synette feel guilty and she drew in on herself, the tips of her ears and fingers burning in embarrassment. "Well, I bought… literature. On the subject." She almost seemed to be guessing at the term if the questioning lilt of her voice was anything to go by. " _Siren's Call in Colovia, Love on the Dunes, Lizard Women of Black Marsh._ " She listed off the names.

"Smut, then." Belwyn muttered, only half directed at Synette. "Well, you've got a… basic concept. Sex can be that but it doesn't always have to involve… ' _members'._ Women can do it with each other too." She picked at the band that held her hair in place. "It's got to do with the clit and—"

"The what?" Synette looked confused, her head tilted to the side like a curious puppy. Belwyn returned a look of pity and sat back, looking rather defeated.

"I'm… not really a teacher, Synette. The only way I know how to explain this is to show you, but," a sigh slipped out from the back of her throat and she began to stand, "I'm not a teacher. You should talk to one if you want to know more."

"Wait!" For the second time that night, Synette seized Belwyn by the wrist, practically begging with her eyes alone. "Please, I want to learn I… I think you were right. Maybe." She let go of the Bosmer's wrist and ran her hands down her face. "All I know is that I want _you_ to show me." Her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat, or perhaps embarrassment.

That plea left Belwyn thinking for a few moments before she spoke up again, "I don't know that you understand enough for me to feel comfortable, Synette." She spoke with certainty. "What I mean is," she continued on seeing the near-devastation on her companion's face, "I don't know that you understand how intimate sex is. How… how important it is, I guess."

"I do!" Synette's voice had a shrill edge to it. "I know what it is, I know… I know all those things. Sex is an act of love and intimacy and for all my life I didn't want it but…" she trailed off, heaving a reluctant sigh, "but I do now. For the first time. I don't know how to do it. I hardly even knew it was possible but I want to learn. I want to _know."_ Her voice was noticeably shaky, as if she were on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by emotion. "I'm not a child, Belwyn. I'm scared, gods know I'm scared, but I'm not a child. I understand."

"Synette," the Bosmer began, but paused for a brief moment, "I…" She swallowed her words, eventually opting to sit down once again, now much closer. "It's really early. I don't mind but _you_ might regret it later. Sex is a major milestone—" she caught herself talking to Synette like a lost child, "What I mean to say is, you should be sure you want this and it isn't just some split second decision."

Silence hung over the two of them for a significant stretch of time. Somewhere during their conversation, the rain had turned to hail that pounded the resolute glass panes. Finally, Synette leaned over and pressed a kiss to Belwyn's lips, withdrawing after a moment.

"I _do_ want it." Her voice was undoubtedly certain and Belwyn couldn't help a small smile, for she too had wanted it. Perhaps they didn't know much of one another, but the feeling in her gut told her it wasn't a bad idea. "I am no child," she repeated her words, carrying with her a far stronger confidence, "I understand, and I know what I want." 

"Then we should at least do this right." She stood and offered Synette her hand, struggling to pull the much taller woman to her feet. Once it had been sorted, she continued, "We should go to your chambers. I'd say mine, but…" She thought of the cramped cots and sweltering heat, "I don't think the servant's quarters are the right place for your first time." She supplemented her explanation with a small smile.

"Okay, alright." Synette seemed jittery all of a sudden and the sound of the rapidly tapping boot echoed through the room. "Come on!" Excitedly she began for the door, expecting Belwyn to follow close behind. Instead she felt that stern hand on her arm pull her back into place. "Woah!" She cried out and tried to stabilize herself on the desk, barely avoiding falling flat on her face. "What's wrong?" She turned her attention back and her bewildered eyes sought an answer in Belwyn's freshly nervous gaze.

The Bosmer huffed a little sigh and glanced at the door. "We need to leave separately, in case someone's watching us." Her voice was considerably quieter as if she were suddenly privy to someone listening in. "I'll leave first and then you come out later." She glanced at the clock and then at the door. "Just… wait ten minutes, that should be enough. We'll meet at your door, alright?" Belwyn shot a worried look to Synette, desperately seeking confirmation. The quiet nod her companion gave was enough to take the tension from her shoulders and she took a steadying breath.

“Ten minutes.” Synette echoed and shot a hopeful look to the clock as if she was hoping that time had already elapsed. When she looked back, Belwyn was gone, slipped through the door into the hallway. Synette returned to her desk, fiddling nervously with the quill. Any common sense would tell her that it was a good time to ge work done, she still hadn’t finished the invitations and the more of them done the fewer would have to be completed later.

And yet, she couldn’t do it. That heat had spread and her head was hazy and throbbing, her stomach was churning and she felt as if she was going to pass out. If she didn’t feel so ecstatic she’d think she had somehow come down with some manner of illness in the time between the kiss and now. And oh that kiss, that kiss she couldn’t get out of her mind. Her eyes were glued to the clock on the wall, counting the excruciating minutes until the seconds felt like years under her watchful eye. She knew that watching the clock made it tick slower, but she couldn’t help herself.

Finally it struck its tenth minute and she nearly jumped from her chair, setting several of the papers loose and rushing for the door. Something stopped her as she touched the handle though, and that was the reminder of Belwyn’s intentions. Despite not quite knowing what was going to happen in her chambers, she knew that neither of them would be in good standing with her family if they were caught. A noblewoman and a servant together was unheard of and if she’d given a damn for noble tradition she wouldn’t be caught dead doing what she was about to do.

Still, she did, and she knew that Belwyn understood the need for subtlety as well. Synette took a moment to temper her eagerness and calm her shaking hands. With a renewed poise she stepped out into the hallway, casually adjusting her braids. A sudden thought struck her and she realized she hadn’t properly groomed herself this morning. Her hair was no doubt a mess to behold and it was doubtful she smelled terribly pleasant. Much to her dismay, nothing could be done about it now.

The entry hall was still populated by stragglers from the party at that late hour, some she recognized and some she didn’t. On the far side of the hall near the doors a portly bald noble was attempting to win the favor of one of the Dunmeri servants, who seemed deeply uninterested in his advances. What was, evidently, his wife, watched from one of the alcoves in bored irritation. Lingering by the door to the east wing were a pair of young lovers, perhaps the sons of noblemen, judging by their familiar attire. On one of the benches, deep in his reading was a well-known professor of the University of Daggerfall, Mr. Timmon, an older gentlemen perhaps in his fortieth year with a large silver beard and full head of hair, wire-rimmed spectacles perched over his ears. Of her parent’s friends, he was the only one Synette had ever gotten on with, despite the fact that she’d rejected his son repeatedly. It was rare he would attend any such party and as such his presence confused her, but she had more important things on her mind at the time. With a passing smile and a nod, she continued to the stairs.

Mercifully the Family Wing was empty and her siblings were no doubt in bed by now. Her door was slightly ajar and leaking light into the otherwise dim hallway, assuring her that Belwyn had found her way in with no trouble. Steeling herself and trying to stave off that nervous nausea, she slpped in past the doorframe and closed the heavy door behind her, making certain that the _click_ of the latch was as quiet as possible.

“Thank Y’ffre.” Belwyn’s familiar voice huffed out in a whisper behind her and Synette turned to face her. The Bosmer stood in the center of the room just near the bed, clearly jumpy. Synette’s presence seemed to calm her however and she relaxed. A fresh fire had been stoked in the hearth and some things that had been left out had been tidied up. “Do you think anyone saw you come in?” Her voice was still low as if she were on the brink of being caught.

The air of anxiety didn’t help Synette much at the moment but she powered through, taking a few steps into the room. “Don’t worry, the walls are thick and my family sleeps far earlier than this. We’re safe, I promise.” She flashed the most reassuring smile she could manage, which wasn’t saying much. While she was certain of her words, she was oddly terrified of what was about to come next. Belwyn was the most beautiful person she’d met, and if something went wrong at this juncture… well, she wasn’t certain it would last. A million thoughts raced through her head but she forced herself through them. “How do…?” She started, taking a deep breath and hoping Belwyn got the point.

“Uh…” The small elf stammered, looking around. “Lay down here on the bed.” She patted the surface and her face flushed slightly. It almost seemed like embarassment, but it was perpetually difficult to read her expressions. Besides, Synette knew a blush could be for more than one reason, a thought that sent the blood to her face as well.

With a quiet nod she approached the bed but found herself pausing, a sudden realization setting upon her. “Wait.” Synette shifted uncomfortably. “I… I forgot to ask.” Her voice was almost incredulous, as if she’d missed some obvious thing. Her course diverted to the chair in the corner and she caught Belwyn’s confused look out of the corner of her eye. As she sat down, she folded her hands in her lap. “I forgot to ask if _you’re_ okay with this.” She rubbed a hand across her forehead.

“What do you mean?” Belwyn asked, her voice puzzled. She approached the chair, tilting her head to the side and looking Synette in the eye now that they were on the proper level. That, Synette thought, would be quite an interesting hurdle. Assuming her question didn’t backfire on her intentions.

“I mean that I’m… well, I’m a Pierrane. The daughter of your master and a part of such a powerful family in High Rock. I want to make sure…” She stammered, “I mean to say, you don’t have to do this. I’m not…” She continued to stumble over her words, “I mean to say, I don’t want you to feel obliged to do this. I-I _like_ you, Belwyn. I don’t… I mean to say, I don’t want you to…” She seemed to be descending into a vortex of broken sentences. Finally, she managed to say what she wanted, “I don’t want you to feel like this is necessary. If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. Just tell me no now and we can part ways, nobody will know, I swear. I _want_ to be with you, but only if you want to be with me too.”

A silence hung over them that drove Synette’s anxiety through the roof and then some. Once she was certain that Lorkhan himself could see that beacon of fear, she caught the smile on Belwyn’s face. “Thank you, Synette.” The Bosmer reached out and took Synette’s soft hand in her calloused one. “But I _do._ I promise. You’re absolutely gorgeous, and you’re the only noble other than Lady Lielle I can stand to be around. It’s just…” She trailed off, looking slightly troubled, “I just need you to understand what could happen if we get caught.” She picked back up, “Your parents clearly have issues with the idea of two women being together, and if what I’ve seen is right… I don’t think they’d be any more happy that you were with a servant like me.” She combed her free hand through her hair. “If we do this you can’t tell anyone. We can’t be together in public and sometimes we’ll have to go weeks without it.”

Synette nodded. To some degree, deep down she understood as much but hearing the words let it sink in. She ran them through her mind, turning them over and considering what was said. It was all true and she knew it, and there was no doubt that Belwyn would be the one to take the brunt of the blow. She would be there though, Synette reasoned. She would be there to protect her if anything went wrong. With a nod of her head she broke the dam of silence and leaned forward to kiss Belwyn, her fears now dissipated. The air of anxiety turned to something different, something she couldn’t place her finger on.

The kiss became heated, though Synette was inexperienced and the books she’d read were no help in the moment. The awkward moment persisted before they pulled back and Belwyn laughed at her embarrassment. “Don’t worry, we’ll work on it.” She ran a hand down Synette’s cheek, letting go of her and taking a step back. “Now c’mon, get up on the bed.” Her face was red, though smiling widely now.

Obediently, Synette stood and approached the bed, hardly hesitating this time as she crawled up onto the feather mattress and flipped herself over so she was pressed against the huge cushion of pillows beneath her. They were largely mismatched as she’d had to ask her parents for them one at a time so as not to seem like she was hoarding them. Eventually, though, it was a collection large enough to bed even the biggest of Nords.

Belwyn climbed up after, having only slightly harder of a time thanks to her height. Once she was secure on the quilt, she shuffled forward on her knees and gently pushed Synette’s knees apart so she could kneel in between them, sitting back on her haunches and looking the huge Breton over. There was a hunger in her eyes that Synette couldn’t place, but it sent shivers down her spine to witness. “What now?” Her voice was a bit shaky as she prepared for whatever was next. That look alone was enough to make her shiver.

With a quiet cough Belwyn leaned forward, clearly tempering herself against something. “Just lay back and let me take the lead.” She smiled lightly and tried to lean forward to kiss Synette again. When she realized how far she’d have to move, however, she shifted up and straddled her waist, placing her hands on either side of her torso and succeeding in capturing her lips. Without any hesitation her hands began to move, unbuttoning Synette’s quilted jacket deftly and pulling it off with only the slightest help.

Beneath, Synette wore a basic cotton shirt with the sleeves cuffed off at the wrist and the hem tucked into her pants. An insistent hand changed that quickly however and she jumped as she felt rough fingers sliding across her belly. As they trailed further up she became more and more excited. Although she couldn’t see, she felt the shirt bunch up just above her breasts and a pair of hands working the tie at the back. Her already red face turned a violent shade of red as the straps of her brassiere went slack and those hands pulled the cups away. They were on her in an instant and she couldn’t help a small jolt at the unexpected feeling. Belwyn gently massaged them and flicked the pads of her thumbs across her nipples with every pass. Even that touch seemed blissful and sent small waves of heat through her. It felt relaxing and pleasant, though only seemed to agitated her more.

For a moment Synette took her mind away from the electric sensation from Belwyn’s fingers and realized her hands were limp at her side. Awkward as ever she debated where to put them, fidgeting her fingers until she finally settled on one of the bravest things she’d done in a while. Lifting her arms up, she placed her hands on Belwyn’s hips. Much to the surprise of her anxious mind, she didn’t pull away in disgust but simply continued on. Content, she simply returned the kiss as well as she could.

Eventually, however, that kiss broke and the Bosmer slipped down lower, capturing one of Synette’s nipples between her lips and running her tongue across the tip, alternating every few seconds and leaving them glistening. That drew a gasp from Synette’s lips and she leaned back to revel in how it felt, her heart thundering in her chest as Belwyn dragged her hands across her in exploration, lips moving from her breasts down to her stomach. A break in the feeling brought her back to the present and she looked down to Belwyn, who was smiling softly. “Is this alright?” Her question was soft and it filled Synette’s heart with a warm happiness to hear her voice.

“Yes.” She whispered out, “Please don’t stop.” Her voice was more desperate than she expected but on reflection it wasn’t far from how she felt. She craved more of Belwyn’s touch, her entire body radiated with an unfamiliar desire that the Bosmer seemed to almost be able to _sense_ .

Obliging the begging, Belwyn shifted off of Synette’s waist and knelt between her legs again, dropping the leather belt away that held her trousers in place. The Breton was mesmerized by now and so it was entirely on her to work them off. Finally she manged to pull them off, along with Synette’s boots. Whatever was going to come next, Synette could hardly wait for it to happen. She flinched as Belwyn hooked her fingers over the waistband of her underclothes and pulled them slowly down her long legs, leaving her exposed and completely naked. She’d never been necessarily happy or upset with her body. While she was undeniably well-shaped even to her own eye, she never understood the fixation. Now, though, she couldn’t help insecurity. Her breasts were slightly larger than Belwyn’s but only slightly and by comparison to others she’d seen, rather small. Thanks to the climate in High Rock and her dislike for the outdoors during the summer months, she was pale and her slight freckles stood out. Beteween her legs was a large patch of hair, something she’d never thought to do much more than trim away at to keep it from getting too large. The way Belwyn’s eyes took her in, she felt as if she wasn’t measuring up in some way. In her eyes, even now, Belwyn was gorgeous, something Synette couldn’t measure up to.

“You’re beautiful.” The words of her lover sent  those worries through the window and into the hail and she felt a shock of raw emotion through her body. Belwyn leaned down and pressed her lips across Synette’s chest, down her legs and the inside of her thighs. She felt like she was about to burst and that pressure was centered right between her legs. The anticipation was excruciating as the Bosmer took her time to tease. After what felt like ages, her fingers traced down the folds between her legs and parted them, revealing her most intimate self. Even that minor stimulation was enough to make Synette groan in approval, but when Belwyn’s index finger pressed against some mystic spot and began a small circle she violently arched off the bed, thrusting her hips up at the contact and curling her toes. It was all she could do not to shout in surprise at the sudden jolt of intense pleasure, something the likes of which she’d never felt in her life.

Her fingers fisted in the quilt and and sunk her head into the pillows, panting vigorously and moaning so deeply that she could feel her chest vibrating. Warm rivulets of some sort of liquid trailed down her thighs and she was worried she’d wet herself, but that fear was nothing but a slight doubt in the back of her mind as she lost herself entirely. As lips closed around that glorious spot she saw stars behind her eyelids and one of her hands grasped Belwyn by the back of the head in an attempt to steady herself. Her mind raced to find some reference to this in the books she’d read but nothing compared to the description she’d been given.

She began to shake as a heavy pressure built in her gut. There was hardly any of her mind left to tell what Belwyn was doing anymore and at the moment she didn’t care. All that mattered was the intense, hot pleasure that coursed through her veins. Within only a minute it all reached a crescendo and she scrambled to grab a pillow, feeling a scream build in her throat. Just in the nick of time she pressed it over her face as her body went rigid and she felt herself unable to move, mind entirely blank. She was only barely conscious by time she came down from what had just happened and she felt a million miles away from her own body. Vaguely, she knew she’d slumped back onto the bed and was panting madly in an attempt to catch her breath, but it all seemed like it was happening to someone else. It was all murky for several wonderful moments before a wave of exhaustion swept over her. With what strength she had left she watched Belwyn between her legs, cleaning her fingers with one hand while another worked away somewhere in her pants.

The sight sent a renewed vigor through her and she sat up, her hair clinging to her sweaty face. “C-can… can I watch?” She spoke in a hoarse whisper that the Bosmer responded to with a smile and a blush. Almost reluctantly, she pulled her hand from beneath her waistband and crawled up to straddle Synette’s waist again. The two shared a soft kiss and Synette reached up to undo the laces of Belwyn’s shirt, pulling it open as quickly as she could to expose what was underneath. It was everything she’d hoped for, even if it was in the back of her mind. As the elf undid her brassiere and let it fall away, Synette drank in what was before her. Belwyn was significantly harder than her, sporting far more defined muscles and a much stronger build. As she expected, her breasts were slightly smaller though her skin was sun-kissed just as her face was. The two were greatly different, and that only excited Synette more.

Belwyn braced a hand on the wall behind Synette’s head and leaned over her, staring down at her face. The smile she held melted away as she slipped her hand back down into her trousers where there was forming a noticeable wet spot near the groin. Her lips parted and soft, breathy moans slipped from between them. Her eyes remained open for as long as she could to watch the woman beneath her, but eventually she sagged her head and closed them.

Synette watched, hypnotized by the sight. She wanted nothing more than to learn how to please Belwyn herself, just like had been done for her moments before, but she was far too insecure to ask, and so she only watched, exploring the elf’s body with her hands and eyes. Before long the two were kissing once again, though Synette was hardly certain how it had come to happen. Everything had started blurring together again in a haze as she lost herself in the soft moans and gasps from the woman on top of her. For minutes they lay there, touching one another while Belwyn pleased herself until finally her breathing picked up and she hunched over, hand shaking on the wall as she went rigid and began bucking into her hand. The sight excited Synette immensely and she felt that heat return, she wished nothing more than to make her feel like that herself, sometime in the future.

The Bosmer was silent as she rode out her climax, and once it had finished she seemed to go boneless, barely able to keep herself from falling on top of Synette. Belwyn pulled her hand out of her trousers, now shiny and slick. The front of her pants were soaked now and noticeably darker than before, but she didn’t seem to mind much as she wiped her hand clean on her thighs. Silence hung again between the two, this time blissful and happy as they stared into each-other’s eyes.

As all things though, the moment was forced to its end as Belwyn shifted away and stood from the bed, still slightly weak in the knees. She collected her shirt and began lacing it back up. “I’m sorry I have to go so soon.” She began, her tone carrying genuine regret beneath it. “Fortis will be looking for me soon, I need to get back to the kitchens.” She approached the bed and kissed her lover tenderly, gazing into her eyes. “Goodnight, Synette. I hope we can see each other again.” She stroked the cheek of the lovestruck woman who was unable to form any words.

As Belwyn returned to the door, Synette let slip a small whisper, barely audible through the hail and the crackling of the fire, but it was a whisper that carried her deepest emotion.

“Goodnight, Belwyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta fill this fucking field somehow

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This work is not abandoned, no matter how long it's been between an update. I will continue to update it as possible but I have several multi chapter works that I have to work on as well. If you would like to catch the next chapter when it comes it, I would recommend subscribing to the work to receive a notification.


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